


Death Valley

by Rionaa



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Demons, Magic, Monsters, Short, Supernatural Elements, might tag as WIP but it kinda works as it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 17:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionaa/pseuds/Rionaa
Summary: Here be demons





	Death Valley

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The High Way to Hell (Season One)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040309) by [acareeroutofrobbingbanks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acareeroutofrobbingbanks/pseuds/acareeroutofrobbingbanks). 



The crowd was wilder than usual that evening. At least, that's the way it felt to Patrick. He performed one of his best shows for them, and he knew that the others did as well. He watched Pete jump around the stage, felt the pumping rhythms from Andy's drums, heard Joe giving his all on the guitar beside him. The crowd lapped it up, roaring, screaming their names, shouting their lyrics back at them with a fervour they had never seen before. And Patrick floated with it, owning the music, entering it, becoming it, becoming one with his band and the arena full of kids; there was no difference between them.

They played their final song and left the arena to the screams of their fans. Patrick felt a strange sense of loss. He looked at Pete, who was almost glowing. Pete looking over at him and nodded, understanding Patrick with no need for words. He felt it too. Maybe that should have been enough to alert them that something was wrong.

By the time they made it out to the van, there was only a handful of fans waiting, maybe twenty or thirty. The band greeted them, signed things, waved and took photos. As they neared the last couple of people, someone reached out across the barrier and grabbed onto Patrick's shirt. He turned round to see who it was, but as he did so, his words died on his lips.

“C-can I help you?” he stammered, staring into black, empty eyes.

“You should not have come here.” The voice that came from those white, parched lips was almost unintelligible, corrupted by a hissing like static, but the meaning was clear.

Patrick stumbled back, but his shirt was still caught in a vice-like grip, and he was dragged closer to those unseeing, ink-black eyes. “O-okay, just let me go, and we'll leave right now, okay?” All the thrill of the concert had now left him, replaced instead by fear – no, horror – of the creature in front of him. Desperately, Patrick looked around for help. Why hadn't his band come to his aid? Pete was three paces behind him, talking animatedly to a fan, Andy and Joe were just ahead, neither having noticed his plight.

“It is too late,” hissed the creature, “you cannot walk away!” Its horrible, grey lips opened and it breathed a lungful of air – horrible, foul air that reeked of death and decay, rotting flesh, dreams turned to nightmares, right into Patrick’s face. He gasped, then coughed, eyes widening. The thing released him and he stumbled back, suddenly unable to breathe. He fell backwards, reaching out blindly behind him, and hit the ground. 

“Patrick?” That was Pete, but he was too far away, and Patrick couldn’t breathe! He scrabbled at the ground with his fingers, heart beating wildly in his panic. 

“Oh, god, what happened?” Joe stepped closer, followed closely by Andy, peering anxiously over Joe's shoulder.

“Pat, are you alright?” Pete again, crouching beside Patrick and placing a hand on his shoulder. Patrick grabbed for his hand, placing it over his own sternum, pleading with Pete to understand. Pete's eyes widened. “He can't breathe! Somebody help!” Instantly, Joe and Andy were gone from Patrick's vision, replaced by two medics carrying a large bag. One of them fitted an oxygen mask over his face, but it didn't help, because he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe the oxygen. The world was going blurry around the edges, his hands and feel felt tingly, he couldn't breathe, couldn’t-

He searched the handful of watching fans frantically, searching for the creature with the sightless eyes, but it was gone without a trace, not even a hint of ash-grey skin, or the tattered, colourless rags it had been wearing.

As his vision tunnelled, he looked back up into his best friend's face, expecting to see worry and fear, but instead he saw only the cold, black eyes of the creature in the crowd.


End file.
